I was in Seclusion for so long that everyone forgot about me

“She didn’t have to be so rough on them! My goddess, Frederick nearly died from the aftereffects of the toxins,” yelled the rather annoying voice of the school healer—a professor of light and water magic.

“To be fair—” I started, but was instantly shut down.

“Quiet. You endangered the students in a way that isn’t acceptable,” admonished the small fae hovering in front of me. She wasn’t even taller than an ale mug, but the power radiating off her was astonishing.

What made it stranger was that her kind wasn’t even native to this continent. Had they migrated here? That… actually surprised me.

“Na-Na, don’t be so hard on her. It’s my fault for—” the headmaster began, but her death-glare cut him off mid-apology.

“I do not care who is at fault,” she snapped. “I care about the results of your actions. That’s all.”

She zipped up to Ulrich’s face, her wings leaving a shimmer in the air, then shot another glare at me before turning her attention back to healing the champions.

‘I’m surprised you let her talk to you like that. Doesn’t seem like you,’ noted Asche.

I tilted my head slightly. ‘Back then, their creator—the Mother of Origin—made sure she’d feel it anytime her children were killed by certain types of magic. All of her faes, at least in those days, were connected to her. Not a hive mind, exactly, but if they reached out, she’d hear them. Some of the others didn’t like this new species. They started killing them on sight. Made the bitch furious enough to reinforce the connection across every fae. Now, if one dies to magic she can categorize as ours… she shows up.’

‘So if you killed one, she might pop up and ask why?’ Aska concluded.

I nodded. ‘Yup. And probably vaporize the city out of spite. That bitch doesn’t know how to chill.’

‘Mhm… so what’s the difference between a fairy and a fae, then?’

‘Well, not every fae is a fairy, but every fairy is a fae. Kind of. Even that’s oversimplifying it. The purer the bloodline, the closer they are to being true fae. Higher fairy types are considered pure fae, while the further you drift from the source, you’re just a wild fairy—more like raw nature spirits that serve the world itself instead of her.

‘The thing is, that bitch didn’t create all fae—but the term’s so broad, everyone just assumes she did. Most elemental spirits or fairies still branch off from her in one way or another. She wasn’t the only one, but she was the first that mattered.

‘The worst are the elemental queens—pure forces of nature, deeply embedded into the world and her first-borns. I don’t even know if I could erase them anymore, not with the System in place. I mean… I could... but the fallout would be—’

‘Yeah, no. You don’t have to finish that thought,’ muttered Aska.

‘Anyway, pure fae fairy. Not touching that. Period.’

I cleared my throat. “If the matter is resolved, I’d like to inspect the workshop you offered me, Lord Ulrich.”

Na-Na gave me one last icy glare, but I ignored it. The headmaster looked uncomfortable, unsure how to handle the tension crackling between us.

“W-Well, I did promise Madam Asche the workshop,” Ulrich said hesitantly. “And… I think it’s best if you two aren’t too close right now.”

The oversized moth rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I don’t want to see more students like this because of her.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Thank you, Na-Na, for your hard work,” Ulrich offered with a practiced smile.

“Hmpf.” She turned back to the injured champions, muttering curses under her breath about Jaegers and how a high elemental could choose me of all people.

As we left the infirmary, Ulrich sighed. “You’ll have to excuse her. She doesn’t have the best history with the Jaeger families since she came to this continent.”

Then his expression shifted, a sadness tugging at his features.

“Eschenwege got her sisters. Claimed they were ‘important alchemical ingredients’, all for the so-called good of humanity. Those fanatics did horrible things to them—cruel, disgusting experiments in the name of knowledge. She only escaped because her sisters made it possible. They sacrificed themselves… so she could run.”

“Those lunatics are still doing whatever they want, huh?” Asche muttered aloud.

The headmaster chuckled under his breath. “Hearing that from the familiar of a Matriarch is oddly comforting. I’ve heard you’re not exactly fond of the families. Especially the Winters.”

“They’re the reason I’m the last Asche. So yeah—‘not fond’ is an understatement,” I replied flatly. “But don’t worry about your little fae. I’m not after her.”

Ulrich blinked. “You can tell she’s a fae? Just like that?”

“Of course. It’s the way the mana’s woven around her. She’s basically a tiny mana-reactor. And her wings and body proportions are slightly too large for a common fairy.”

“Amazing. Only a handful of people can see the difference,” he said, stroking his beard. “Most just assume she’s a higher evolution.”

“Ev—” Asche began.

‘Shut up, you moron. Don’t ask something we’re supposed to already know,’ I hissed across the soul-link.

‘S-sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘But what are evolutions even supposed to be?’

‘I’ve got an idea. We’ll check later in the library. Now shut it.’

“Yes?” Ulrich asked, raising an eyebrow.

“N-Nothing,” Asche stammered. “I was about to ask something but then realized I already knew the answer.”

Ulrich nodded, content not to pry further.

Eventually, we reached a part of the academy that looked run-down—old stone, worn sigils. I raised a brow, and the sage laughed before I could ask.

“I know that look—and yes, this wing has seen better days. Hardly anyone uses it anymore. After a few accidents, half the staff and most of the students started whispering it was cursed or haunted. Utter tosh, if you ask me. But they refuse to come here now. So the ones who do? Usually interested in the darker sides of magic… or they just like the solitude.”

“As long as my room isn’t full of cobwebs and dust, I really don’t care,” I said.

“Oh, don’t worry. It was freshly renovated not too long ago. Originally meant for Professor Tasel, but—” he chuckled, “he’ll have to live with waiting a bit longer than planned, hahaha!”

‘Let’s hope the room’s actually usable for what you’re planning. You still want to test ways into the System, right?’ Asche asked, walking next to me with a lazy air, hands behind her head like none of this mattered.

‘Yeah. But first I need to see what’s there and start hauling materials over,’ I said, shooting her a look. She really knew how to act like nothing was ever urgent. But she probably learned that from me…

Aska only hummed in agreement, and we moved on.

“I didn’t get the chance to say it earlier,” Ulrich said, “but seeing ash magic used like that—in person—was extraordinary. And those scythes… they didn’t just look powerful. They felt… draconic.”

Aska glanced at me. ‘That would explain the reaction from that dragon-kin. And your thoughts… I never knew any of this.’

“Yes,” I admitted. “It was a late gift of my mother. I didn’t even know she was a dragon at the time. Thought it was some kind of heirloom, maybe a cursed one, until Krone explained the truth. I haven’t seen her since, but I’ve been looking for her, too.”

Ulrich pondered for a moment. “Can’t say I’ve heard of an ash dragon—not in recent history. Not unless we count those abominations in the Ashlands. That volcanic graveyard.”

I tilted my head. “Ashlands?”

“Not surprising you haven’t heard of it,” Ulrich said. “It’s deep within the orc kingdom, near the ocean where their border meets naga territory. They don’t talk much about what happened there. But if you’re looking for real clues—something concrete about ash dragons or their origins—that’s where I’d start. That graveyard still bears the scars.”

He paused, then added, “You’re also welcome to consult the academy’s library. Professor Mellie curates its collection and is well-versed in on draconic lineages and their histories—far beyond my own expertise.”

Asche tilted her head. “What about that dragon-kin from the fight? She might know something, right?”

“Hm. Possibly,” Ulrich said, stroking his beard. “But she’s been rather secretive since arriving. Then again, Noctia is proud—unapologetically so. Likely a trait of her Varnacht blood. All I know is that she’s been traveling under her mother’s grace, hoping to become a full-fledged dragon.”

“She’s a fledgling?” I asked, frowning. Since when could dragon-kin evolve just by wandering?

Ulrich nodded. “She is. Not even a hundred yet. Which makes it all the stranger that she was allowed to leave Donnerberg. She’s powerful. Unnaturally so for one that young.”

I gave a skeptical glance. “I’m not convinced about the ‘powerful’ part. But yeah, if she was raised by her mother, that’s... odd.”

He laughed. “Please. Compared to you? Not many people in this city qualify as powerful. You’re a battlemage who moves like a martial artist or some kind of monk-class. It didn’t even take you two minutes to win—and you were clearly toying with them. If it weren’t for our projection spells, the audience wouldn’t have even followed what was happening. You’re fast, deadly, and precise. It makes me wonder what class and level you actually are.”

I smiled and said nothing.

Ulrich chuckled. “Can’t blame an old man for trying.” He gestured ahead. “Anyway—we’re here. The room’s open. Key’s on the table. A gift from my former pupil, Irmgarde. I’ll head back to my office. I’ll send your class schedule to the Dancing Tails.”

Then he turned to leave, adding with a grin, “Oh—and tell Kazari I said hello~.”

And with that, he was gone.

“He didn’t even want to watch your reaction. Kinda weird, no?” Asche tilted her head.

“Nah, he’s probably just busy being the headmaster. Wanted to give me some privacy, I think. He’s trying to get on my good side—hoping to snag an example of my old runes,” I said.

The wolf-kin hummed. “You think the Donnerberg changed much?”

I considered it for a second. “Probably. With how evolution seems to be part of their tradition now, I’d assume the dragons’ homeland must’ve adapted. At least, that’s what Ulrich implied. But let’s talk about that later—I want to see the room and figure out what I’ll need.”

Aska let out a few adorably indecipherable noises in agreement, and I opened the wooden door.

“My, my,” I murmured, eyes gleaming.

The moment we stepped inside, I was hit with a familiar blend of smells—old paper, metallic dust, and the pungent tang of alchemical reagents—all hanging heavy in the air, seeping from hanging shelves, countless labeled boxes, and tightly sealed containers that lined the walls in near-organized chaos.

It felt like moving into a memory I’d forgotten I wanted back. A strange sensation rippled beneath my skin. Not the usual cracking—this was different. A strange remembrance of scales.

This room was MINE. Not taken. Not bargained for. Not a gift wrapped in chains. No tricks. No self-made exile.

Just Mine!

That realization settled in strange places. I didn’t trust it. It was clearly the System’s doing. But... some part of me… liked it.

The seal buried in my soul—the one anchored to Greed—twitched. It didn’t fight. Didn’t loosen. It just… stirred, like something golden and ancient shifting beneath the surface—scales flickering in shadows that hadn’t surfaced in cycles. A leash slackening to the quiet hum of the meadow’s chorus.

I think I’m going to like this place,” I muttered.

Asche said nothing. Maybe she heard. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe it didn’t matter to her anymore.

My gaze wandered farther to the lab corner: brand-new flasks, glass bottles, a magical burner, and a heavy cauldron sat waiting beside a wall of tools I’d never seen before. Each was neatly arranged, glyph-inscribed, enchanted to resist wear and enhance precision. A large table stood in the center, enchantments faintly glowing from the carvings etched into its surface.

Still, this wasn’t what I came here for. Just a bonus. A pleasant one. But what I truly wanted—the thing that made my soul hum in quiet recognition—started at the center of the room and stretched into the right side.

Near the center floated an orb—a strange, humming sphere hovered in the air, shining with a cold, shifting glow. Its design resembled a frozen version of my own Abyssal Depths: a crystal-like core floated within a metal frame, siphoning ambient mana while steadily feeding arcane energy outward into the air as a by-product. Strange symbols ran along its surface—some I recognized, others alien—and a small wooden box beside it overflowed with dull, spent mana stones. A charger station, clearly.

“I think I remember some dwarves back then speculating about a design like this,” Asche muttered, stepping closer. “Didn’t think they’d actually go through with it.”

I had to agree. It had been over ten thousand years, after all. Of course, the world had changed.

My attention shifted again—to the workbenches. The surface looked smooth at first glance, but I paused. Wasn’t this the same material Queen’s Gate had been built from… just black?

No—similar, but not quite the same. It felt different. Heavier. Rougher. Like a white marble base that had been warped over time into something more… grounded. Closer to darkwood in both purpose and texture. I liked it.

I really had to admit, after over ten thousand years, the world had changed in so many ways that it was hard to keep up. And this—this was just another fascinating example.

Behind the benches hung more crafting tools—mallets, gem-cutting rods, elemental knives, grinders. All of them etched with stabilizing glyphs to prevent breakage and enhance their work.

Between the two benches sat a small drafting table, complete with a suspended crystal lamp for perfect lighting. A blank blueprint was clamped into place, waiting. One drawer below was empty. The other held a small hoard of paper, inks, and enchanted pens.

I trailed my fingers along the edge of the drafting table, already piecing together the modifications I’d need.

“I think this’ll be useful,” I mumbled. “Once we get the System data from Alicia... yeah, I can already see some paths. Maybe some runic layering… test reactive mana with soul-binding runes. Switch hosts mid-cast, maybe?

“You want to snatch someone’s body?” Asche asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Maybe,” I muttered, already drifting toward the jewel of the room.

The furnace—a massive structure embedded into the rear wall, clearly meant for reheating ingots and shaping high-density materials. I’d have to inspect it properly later to figure out how hot it could get and how exactly it worked. The runes covering it were layered and reinforced, interlocked with elemental cores and lined with glyphs I didn’t recognize yet again. It was flustered with safety wards and hazard stabilizers, the kind that shimmered faintly along its surface like they were just waiting to be triggered.

From the setup alone, I could already tell this thing was built to push absurd heat thresholds—and I hadn’t even tested its upper limits yet. The chamber looked like it could easily hold several ingots at once.

I’d need time to figure out the right settings. But just looking at it made my fingers itch.

“You really love crafting, huh?” chuckled Aska.

“Oh, you have no idea how much,” I said, grinning. “It’s one of the few passions I held onto after all those years.”

Asche nodded, then stepped closer to the furnace, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What’s that made of? It looks like wood?”

“I’m not sure either,” I murmured. “Looks like a tree hit by magical lightning—veins cracked through the structure, filled with heat-forged mana. Like ironwood mixed with obsidian.” I pressed a palm to the side. “It doesn’t feel like wood anymore. It feels like something that survived a force that should’ve destroyed it.”

Aska ran her fingers along the grain. “It feels… funky. And kinda nice. I want a hilt made out of this.”

“Mhm, might not be the worst idea. Remind me when we see the dwarves next time to grab some of that wood too...and a rune table. For now, let’s grab the key and head to the library. We can do the real testing later—once the materials are brought here.” I sighed. “Kinda regret knowing everything’s still at the Dancing Tails. Urgh… I could’ve started right away.”

Asche shrugged. “You couldn’t have known.”

“True,” I muttered.

I moved to the left workbench, where a key-like crystal had been placed. On closer inspection, the craftsmanship matched what I’d seen in the arena wards—and the ones used in the guilds. So this Irmgarde had made those too. Now I really wanted to meet her… and ask why someone who can do this still hasn’t figured out those garbage runes back at the temple.

“Don’t be mean,” said Asche, gently patting my back.

I gave her a look but let it slide. Honestly, the way people were losing their fear of me was… alarming. Just how cruel had the rest of the world been, that I seemed like the safe one?

I sighed, grabbed the crystal key, and stepped out. The door closed behind us with a soft click, followed by the low hum of wards snapping into place. That part made me smile. It meant the room was sealed—safe from prying eyes.

But not from hers. Irmgarde could still get in… unless she couldn’t read the runes.

Maybe I should leave her something, just in case she tries. I crouched and carved a small glyph into the floor in front of the door. A pulse of mana spread out as it synced with the wards, quietly overriding part of the structure to make it respond to me—and only me.

Asche flinched. “What did you do?” Her fur was standing up.

“Updated the room,” I said with a shrug.

“That felt really weird. And wrong. Please don’t do that again.”

“I’m done here anyway. Let’s go.”

Asche smoothed her fur down, still eyeing the door. “Alrighty. But what are you even looking for?”

I grinned.

“Everything.”